“Hang the royal family!”

“Their own parliament, or Reichstag, will arrange for that!” and the little man laughed.

Dawn came soon enough, yellow and airless.

“My dear,” said Mrs. Coldfield, “I really wish you wouldn’t go.”

“But Laura and Miss von Mitter insist on going.  I can’t back out now,” protested Coldfield.  “What are you worried about?  Brigands, gun-shots, and all that?”

“He will be a desperate man.”

“To steal a chest full of money is one thing; to shoot a man is another.  Besides, the admiral will go if he has to go alone; and I can’t desert him.”

“Very well.  You will have to take me to Baden for nervous prostration.”

“Humph!  Baden; that’ll mean about two-thousand in fresh gowns from Vienna or Paris.  All right; I’m game.  But, no nerves, no Baden.”

“Go, if you will; but do take care of yourself; and let the admiral go first, when there’s any sign of danger.”

Coldfield chuckled.  “I’ll get behind him every time I think of it.”

“Kiss me.  They are waiting for you.  And be careful.”

It was only a little brave comedy.  She knew this husband and partner of hers, hard-headed at times, but full of loyalty and courage; and she was confident that if danger arose the chances were he would be getting in front instead of behind the admiral.  A pang touched her heart as she saw him spring into the carriage.

The admiral had argued himself hoarse about Laura’s going; but he had to give in when she threatened to hire a carriage on her own account and follow.  Thus, Coldfield went because he was loyal to his friends; Laura, because she would not leave her father; Hildegarde, because to remain without knowing what was happening would have driven her mad; M. Ferraud, because it was a trick in the game; and Cathewe and Fitzgerald, because they loved hazard, because they were going with the women they loved.  The admiral alone went for the motive apparent to all:  to lay hands on the scoundrel who had betrayed his confidence.

So the journey into the mountains began.  In none of the admiral’s documents was it explained why the old Frenchman had hidden the treasure so far inland, when at any moment a call might have been made on it.  Ferraud put forward the supposition that they had been watched.  As for hiding it in Corsica at all, every one understood that it was a matter of sentiment.

Fitzgerald keenly inspected the drivers, but found them of the ordinary breed, in velveteens, red-sashes, and soft felt hats.  As they made the noon stop, one thing struck him as peculiar.  The driver of the provision carriage had little or nothing to do with his companions.  “That is because he is mine,” explained M. Ferraud in a whisper.  They were all capable horsemen, and on this journey spared their horses only when absolutely necessary.  The great American signori were in a hurry.  They arrived at Carghese at five in the afternoon.  The admiral was for pushing on, driving all night.  He stormed, but the drivers were obdurate.  At Carghese they would remain till sunrise; that was final.  Besides, it was not safe at night, without moonshine, for many a mile of the road lipping tremendous precipices was without curb or parapet.  Not a foot till dawn.